Colovalare
by Joyytailnote
Summary: In a world of magic, soulmates, and suspicious behaviour, Hermione's curiosity leads her into a lot more than she could ever have expected. Soulmate AU, multi-chapter fic. ABANDONED (being completely rewritten)
1. Chapter 1

**Hey!**

 **A while ago I found a thread about Soulmate AUs, and I was completely inspired to write loads, so this is the first instalment.**

 **Inspired by aceofultron's post:**

" **soulmate au where instead of your soulmate's first words to you written on your skin it's their last words you ever hear them say so you don't know who your soulmate is until you lose them"**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Dr Corrigan, an expert in his field, had studied long and hard to become a Midwife. It was not common for men to be accepted as midwives, but he'd worked tremendously and had ultimately become one of the best in the city hospital. Having helped thousands of women give birth, and been the first to see thousands of children, he was shocked to witness a scene which confused him.

When Hermione Granger was born, Dr Corrigan had no explanation at all for the words that patterned the young child's skin.

This being because, as a muggle, he'd never before seen the Words of a Soulmate.

All magic children are born marked with a phrase of words written somewhere on their body. Many witches and wizards have looked into the origin of this phenomenon, but most have proved unable to discover anything of interest and the majority of society accepts that their Words are here to stay.

Growing up in the muggle world, Hermione was unsure what to make of hers. They sat on the outside of her right thigh, just within sight without the use of a mirror, and as a child she spent quite a while studying them.

Her whole phrase ran only about twelve centimetres, and said this:

"I'll be home later, love"

She didn't know what to make of it.

Her parents, as confused as they were, asked muggle specialists for any reason for their daughter's specific birthmark. But the most peculiar thing happened; each professional they asked consistently forgot who the family were as soon as they left, as if they had never met them in the first place. This pattern was of course the work of the Ministry of Magic, but as unfamiliar as the Granger family were with such things, they didn't have any explanation.

That was until she entered the magical world. Since that moment she began to hear lots about these Words, and how everyone with magical blood is born with them. They have always been seen as very private, however, so she had never seen those belonging to her friends or professors, but she accepted that that was the way it should be.

Having them high on her thigh, she was easily able to cover them with the clothes she wore, and in this she was very lucky. But for those with Words in obvious places, cloth was commonly used to cover them until such a time when they become proficient enough at spells that they could cover them with a temporary colour charm.

But even after coming from the muggle world, it was not the sheer abundance of people with these tattoos which shocked Hermione the most, but what these words signified. Because firstly, they meant that she had a Soulmate. They were the words of another being that was supposed to be perfect for her, who had the potential to fully understand and accept her. But even through this revelation, the second part was what hit her the most. Because once learning that she may be able to find this person, the tragedy was that these were not the first words that she would hear from them, nor the most important. These were the last words she would ever hear them say to her, so she would only know they were her soulmate once they were gone.

* * *

 _February 1997_

Hermione forced herself to sit just a little longer. She knew it was none of her business, but somehow she just couldn't bring herself to ignore it.

During her lunch breaks at school, as Harry and Ron would talk about quidditch or some such topic which she wasn't interested in, Hermione would often notice what was going on around her. It's not that she was listening in on other people's conversations, but she was an observant witch and strange patterns of behaviour seemed to catch her attention.

It was the eighth time in the last two weeks that she had noticed Malfoy getting up half way through lunch, casually giving some kind of excuse to his friends as to why he was leaving early. It had started off with logical reasons like homework he hadn't finished, a letter he needed to send, but as the time passed they had gotten much less believable. Not only this, but he always left with an expression of apprehension, not one that was obvious, but Hermione prided herself on her ability to read people, and for some reason it left an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. She knew it seemed odd to pay him this much attention, but she was curious and didn't have the self control to stop.

She was currently sitting at the Gryffindor table opposite Harry and Ron. As they had been doing for the last few days, they were continuing their conversation about the upcoming match between Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but she paid them little mind. On the odd occasion Quidditch could capture her interest, but never when she was this focused thinking about something else. She just couldn't bear not knowing.

After a minute longer of ignoring the itch to follow Malfoy she gave up. Hermione pushed away her plate, picked up her bag and headed out the hall, excusing herself by saying she was off to the library, being confident that none of her friends would try to follow her. It's not often that she chose to keep things such as this from her friends, and it's not as if she lacked any faith or trust in them, but with Harry's current suspicions about Malfoy's allegiances, she didn't want to pour unnecessary fuel on his distrust. So, until she knew more, she was keeping her curiousness to herself.

Malfoy had left the hall a good ten minutes before her, but she didn't worry about not being able to see him in person. She stopped once she was adequately far away from the hall, and fished around in her bag finding the Marauders map, having pinched it out of Harry's suitcase earlier that morning. She searched the floors, starting from her position and going upwards, methodically checking each corridor until she caught a glimpse of his name.

"Why would he be on the seventh floor?" She muttered as she watched his name move from the staircase down the left corridor.

She followed the corridor with her eyes, passing the north wing at one end to the arithmancy classroom at the other. She almost dismissed the long stretch of clear hallway until it hit her.

"Oh! Of course," she muttered.

She folded up the map, quickly whispering the phrase to conceal its contents and hurried up the Grand Staircase. She was so lost in her thoughts that she hardly noticed as she passed each floor continuing solidly up the winding stairs which, fortunately, choose to remain in place for the entirety of her journey.

Now quite out of breath, she followed the seventh floor corridor until she found the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and slowed to a stop looking at the wall opposite.

"Right" she thought, "I need to find Draco Malfoy".

She repeated the phrase in her mind and proceeded to pace past the wall three times until a door formed within the brick.

The wall itself was made of large sandy coloured blocks, towering tall over Hermione, and like the castle itself it looked impressive to even those most familiar with it. This new door was no different. It was made out a dark, rich wood and stood at least 7 feet tall. There were intricate patterns caved into the face of it, and it looked both eye catching and at one with the castle at the same time.

After a quick moment to appreciate the magic, she stepped forwards and opened the door, stepping through and letting it close behind her.

The view that met her eyes was not one she expected.

As familiar with the room as she thought she was, a small part of her still expected it to take the shape of the training room she and the others had used when in Dumbledore's army. It had taken the form of a large enough space and held a plethora of magic books and fighting equipment; it was perfect for their needs at the time.

Now however, the room was massive. It was at least eight times the size that it was before, and was filled with multiple mountains of discarded items, reaching all the way up to the high rising ceiling. Hermione's eyes flicked across the room taking in the scene, the muted colours, dim lighting and the remarkable stillness. She was not able to study it in too much detail though, because after only a second of entering she was distracted by a ruffling sound coming from somewhere amongst the mess.

The rest of the room was otherwise silent. It was filled with the kind of noiselessness which only came from complete abandonment, as if no one had entered this variation of the room in centuries. This was untrue of course, so as the sound of movement came again, Hermione made to follow it.

Careful, so as to not make too much noise, Hermione began to pick her way through the pathways between the piles of junk towards the sound. Finding the right direction was tricky, as she had so little to go on, but she gently stepped down the winding walkways for several minutes until the source of the sound came into view.

Draco Malfoy stood in front of a large cabinet, fiddling mindlessly with the edge of a piece of dark green fabric wrapped around his wrist. The cabinet was wedged into a larger pile of damaged books and broken chairs, and he had obviously stepped over various objects in order to get so close to it.

He looked deep in thought, but as she watched he seemed to blink away his concentration and lean his forehead against the closed door, closing his eyes. His shoulders began to shake with emotion, and he brought his hand up and briefly held the piece of fabric against his eyes to dry them.

Hermione felt frozen.

This was not at all what she expected. Had she met a disinterested, scathing or even angry Malfoy she may have found it easier to handle, but this was not something she felt prepared to deal with.

Determined to challenge him another day, she pressed down her growing concern and carefully stepped back, retracing her steps and leaving the way she came.

* * *

 **Thank for reading!**

 **I'm aware this is very short, but it's going to be a multi-chapter fic. I've got loads more planned and some of it written, so I will update it soon.**

 **Not everything is set in stone yet, so if anyone has any ideas of how it could continue, I'm open to hearing your suggestions!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, here we go with the second chapter, it starts where the last left off.**

 **Enjoy!**

Hermione hadn't expected him to be crying.

All of her suspicion and distaste for him seemed to morph in the face of his obvious distress. The determination she had to confront him lessened, but despite the fact that this change annoyed her to no end, she decided to leave him be for a while. Her curiosity, however, never faltered so she decided to find out what exactly it was he was so focused on in the room of requirement. That was an aspect of this whole mess which she could investigate without having to ever cross paths with Malfoy.

It was later that day, just after her final lesson before the weekend, that she chose to return to the room of requirement. But this was not quite as easy as it seemed.

The first problem was being able to sneak away from her friends.

Usually she was happy to tell them everything, in fact she normally did. They knew each other's secrets, and having been through what they had together, it would be strange if they were any other way. But Harry and Ron were not what she would call subtle. When it really mattered she knew she could count on them to be inconspicuous; she knew they would be able to stop themselves getting caught, but when someone like Malfoy was involved she just couldn't trust them not to lose their heads. Hermione could imagine that they would happily stride up in front of Malfoy, demanding that he explain what he was doing, just because he was closer to home and couldn't retaliate within school rules. Malfoy wasn't Voldemort, he wasn't an adult or officially a Deatheater, so to them subtlety wasn't a necessity.

But in order to find out what he was really doing, Hermione needed subtlety; she needed delicacy. She loved Harry and Ron, but this was too fragile to squander the opportunity. So this is why she needed to excuse herself that afternoon.

She, Harry and Ron had just gotten back after Care of Magical creatures and were sitting by the fire in the Common Room. Ron had just collapsed into his favourite arm chair and declared that today was not cold enough to do work.

Harry, who had sat on the carpet with his back to the fire, looked up at him in amusement. "Didn't you say it was _too_ cold to do homework last week?"

"Yeah, it was bloody freezing; I swear I couldn't even move my fingers enough to hold a quill."

Hermione, who was sitting at a desk nearby, stifled a chuckle and looked at him with a disapproving expression; it was a look which Ron had once told her was reminiscent of McGonagall. Which, of course, she chose to take as a compliment.

He rolled his eyes.

"I know, I know, 'do the homework quickly so it doesn't build up, and you can mope about all you like once it's done'. I do listen you know."

Harry chuckeld and laid back on the floor, "She does have a point though". But even as he said that it was obvious that he wasn't going to make any changes to his actions either.

Hermione saw her opportunity. "Well, I'm going to get on with mine, so I'm going to go to the library. I'll see you both later."

She picked up her bag and began to leave, eager to begin figuring her puzzle out.

"Hey, Hermione, wait a second."

She turned back to see the kind face of Neville Longbottom walking over from the other side of the common room.

"Hi, Neville," she said.

"Maybe I could come with you, I need to find a book on colour charms for that project Flitwick assigned us yesterday." His face showed a small amount of anxiety and Hermione felt for him, no matter how hard she wished to shake the company.

"Oh..." She said, "Sure, it'll be lovely to have company."

She smiled at him and they left, forcing herself to dismiss her slight frustration as they made their way down to the third floor.

Hermione liked Neville, she really did, but she could feel the annoyance rise as they sat together at the table in the library.

They had found the book Neville was looking for within the first few minutes of searching. Being as familiar with the library as Hermione was, finding a textbook covering one of the main spells from their curriculum was not the most difficult of tasks.

In order to appear as if she had needed to do something here too, she also found a book she had long been planning on reading called _The Evolution of Wizarding Language Vo.3, Transfiguration Spells._ But however interesting she would usually find it, she had no immediate plans to start as she was desperate to continue her investigation.

This, however, was obviously not meant to be.

As soon as Neville's book was found, he settled down at a table and looked up at her expectantly.

"Oh" she said, trying to think of a way to excuse herself, "I was just planning on picking this up, I was thinking of working in my dorm room."

"Oh." He sounded disappointed.

Hermione felt guilty.

 _Damn_.

"It there... is there anything you needed help with, I could stay if you want?"

He looked a little embarrassed, "If that's okay?"

Hermione tried to clear her head of Malfoy and his secrets. _They can wait_ , she told herself. She smiled kindly at Neville and took a seat on the bench next to him.

"Yeah, not a problem at all, Neville"

He looked grateful, "I've mostly got the basics of the spell but if you'd just help me refine it a bit, I can do the rest..."

The project they had been set by professor Flitwick involved researching the colouring charm. The most basic application being decorating sheets of paper or furniture, but once the charm was developed further it could be used as a concealment charm, the very one which was used to hide their Words. Despite the basic colouring spell being relatively simple, it's the change to the concealment charm which is more complicated, and that's why it was at this stage in their education when this spell was taught.

Hermione sorted herself out with a quill, her wand and a piece of parchment, and then turned to face Neville. He had picked up his wand and was looking at her expectantly, ready for whatever she would say. In the back of her mind she pictured how Ron would be making a fuss, complaining about how he didn't care about the _stupid spell_ anyway. Seeing how keen Neville was to learn brought a smile to her face and suddenly any frustration she felt evaporated as she started to explain.

"Right" she began, "as you know, this colouring charm is a variation of the Colour Change Charm, or _Colovaria_ after its incantation. _Colovaria_ is used for changing the colour of an entire object, like a banner or a table, but this new colouring charm is different. Instead of changing the entire object, like this..."

Hermione clearly enunciated the word " _Colovaria_ ", flicking her wand gently at the sheet of parchment, which instantly changed from a cream to a bright orange.

"... You can just change a small section, like this."

Similarly to before, she flicked her wand at the parchment, but this time said " _Colovarius_ ".

Instead of the instant change from the last spell, red coloured only the immediate area of the parchment where the tip of her wand pointed, and as Hermione moved her wand across the page the line of colour followed it.

"It's more precise, and therefore has many more applications than _Colovaria_. If used with a lot of control you can colour very intricate patterns."

She demonstrated this too. Using a series of small flicks and round movements she wrote her name in small green letters in the centre of her parchment.

She looked across at Neville who had noted down the incantations in the corner of his parchment with his quill, and at her break in her explanation he had quickly demonstrated his use of _Colovarius_ with admirable accuracy. The name Neville was written out on his parchment in yellow letters only slightly bigger than Hermione's own.

"That's great Neville; should I continue?"

He nodded, and she returned to her explanation.

"Now the difference between _Colovarius_ , which we just used, and the concealment charm is both the difference in the incantation and the wand movement. The word is _Colovalare_ ," She noted this down on her piece of paper so he could see the spelling, "but getting the pronunciation right is very important. In the previous charms we used, the third syllable was the primary stress, so it was pronounced ColoVAria and coloVArius. However, in the concealment charm the fourth syllable is the primary stress. So instead of coloVAlare, it's colovaLARe. Does that make sense? It's also equally important to ensure the 'e' on the end is pronounced strongly with an 'ay' sound. Do you want to try?"

He nodded and said the incantation a little hesitantly, but with the correct pronunciation, so Hermione continued.

"Good, now the wand movement..."

The lesson continued in this manner, until Hermione had gone through the practice, applications and history of this spell. Neville was the perfect student, taking note of what she said and Hermione had almost completely forgotten about the reason she had come to the library in the first place. By the time they had finished it was five o'clock and they were both ready to let the subject be for the day.

Once they had packed up their things, Hermione mentioned an errand she had to complete and they parted ways.

As usual, Neville walked up to the seventh floor, went through the portrait hole and met up with everyone else in Gryffindor tower ready for a large dinner. Hermione however, after waiting for him to go on ahead, walked up to the seventh floor but headed instead for the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy.

Draco was scared.

It was something he would never admit, but everywhere he went he felt it, the fear that coiled in his stomach and itched in his bones. He knew how to hide it, but his strength against it was starting to deteriorate. Back at the beginning of the school year he had felt confident in his actions, but now things were starting to change. He wished he was away from Hogwarts, away from his task and the mammoth consequences he would have to live with; and yet, he couldn't go home as the manor was even worse. Voldemort lived in his house; he'd infected Draco's very memories of it and stolen any safety he thought he had. He had never felt more ostracised in his life. Wherever he went he feared both the side he fought with and the side he fought against, never felling safe in any particular space.

Malfoys weren't supposed to be weak, he remembered.

It was something Draco had grown up hearing, and in the past he believed that he lived up to that standard. He did well in his subjects at school, held authority over the over students in his year, and had other people in his own house, and the other houses, who would follow his orders. He'd built up a system surrounding himself and with it he had been establishing his power, his legacy. And while that system had not broken down, Draco felt like _he_ had. As if he was falling down into everything he'd built, into everyone's expectations and Voldemort's orders; it was suffocating him.

He stood in his dorm room's bathroom alone with the door locked, holding a letter in his shaking hands. He hated how weak he felt, ' _Malfoy don't shake'_ he could imagine his father saying.

He tried to still the trembles, but he accomplished nothing more than to crumple the paper in his hand. He felt angry at how he felt, at how it was changing him, and at how the world around him seemed to be falling apart. He tried to control the mess in his head by focus on the writing on the paper in his hand

The letter was only a few lines of script, written in the neat, familiar writing of his farther.

 _Draco,_

 _I have been made aware of the slow speed at which you are progressing in your task and I am most displeased._

 _Your lack of results thus far is concerning. Our Lord requires your best and I should hope you understand how much of an honour it is to be given this assignment. I suggest you stop this foolish complacency and focus on what is truly important._

 _If you don't have any results to show within the next few weeks I doubt our Lord will be so forgiving as he has been of your current failings, and neither will I._

 _I await a letter from you explaining your inefficiency._

 _Lucius Malfoy_

Reading the letter did nothing to calm him, he felt so tightly wound that he knew he would soon break from it. A strange mix of fear, anger and helplessness boiled in his stomach at the words, and he hastily ripped the letter in to pieces, setting it a flame with a wordless _incendio_. The satisfaction it brought was only temporary, so he landed a kick on the nearest bin and looked around for something to take out his anger on. Some part of him was aware he wasn't being logical, that this wouldn't change anything, but the loud sound of blood rushing in his ears and the weeks of constant anxiousness swirled through his mind faster.

Without much thought he roughly lengthened the green fabric which covered his Words on his wrist, used it to cover his knuckles and was half way to punching the mirror above the sink, when there was a knock on the bathroom door.

He looked up at himself in the mirror, his face was completely white, his eyes filled with emotion, and his mouth turned down in a snarl. He quickly charmed his cheeks a healthier colour, forced a natural expression and went over to the door, throwing it open.

His expression must not have been as calm as he meant it to be, because as soon as Goyle saw it he instantly recoiled, despite his attempts to hide it.

Draco knew with all of the stress he'd been under that he was becoming snappier, more unpredictable, and by Goyle's fearful expression, Draco gathered that other people had begun to notice too.

"It's dinner now –" Goyle was saying before Draco interrupted him.

"I know, you imbecile" he snarled, pushing past him through the dorm room and out of the dungeons. He had no patience to deal with that today.

With his father's letter still in his mind, he walked up the stairs, away from the great hall, and towards the seventh floor.

Malfoy wasn't there when Hermione arrived in the Room of Requirement, for which she was very grateful; she hadn't planned what she would do if she were to stumble upon him again. She picked her way around the piles of broken things finding once again the cabinet she had seen earlier that morning. Being much closer to it now than she was before, she could easily see details she had managed to miss at her first viewing.

The cabinet was more of a wardrobe; it was approximately two meters high and was built from a rich, dark wood. Down one of the sides the colour had faded as if it had previously sat in view of the sun, and what would have been sharp edges had grown smoother over time. Decorative carvings patterned the top and the bottom of the panels giving it a very flamboyant, yet somehow intimidating look, but with how the cabinet had aged they didn't look nearly as impressive as Hermione imagined they might once have done. The front of the cabinet was split into two doors which both opened outwards, but before Hermione touched any of it she chose to investigate the patterns which surrounded the handles and lined the door edges.

One not so observant may just dismiss it as simple engravings, similar to those which patterned other areas of the cabinet, but as interested in ancient runes that she was, Hermione took a moment to try to decipher them.

Before she began, she looked briefly towards the piles of mess around her and on spotting a chair which was fully intact, pulled it towards her and sat down as she deciphered the runes.

It took her a good twenty minutes, but by then she believed that she was mostly aware of the situation. The runes, she had decided, were not hostile but merely protective of the cabinet itself. There were some promoting physical strength and the maintenance of the appearance, though ironically, the latter ones seemed to have eroded slightly. There were also pairs of runes split across the two doors, which made the doors more secure whenever they were shut, as if it were magic-proofing the inside.

There were other runes, though they appeared to be too damaged or perhaps incomplete so that they didn't make much sense to her. That being said, she had decided that they weren't likely to cause her damaged for touching them, so she reached out her hand and opened the cabinet.

The second the doors opened she was aware of the thick presence of strong magic. Her initial reaction was to step away from it, but the magic itself didn't feel dark, only capable, so she forcefully settled her stomach and looked further inside.

She found nothing.

She looked around the cabinet in confusion. There was nothing of interest at all. The presence of magic was astounding but there was no source visible, and no matter how she chose to examine it, nothing seemed at all exceptional. She leant out of the cabinet and frowned as she wondered how best she might understand it.

So lost in her thoughts, Hermione didn't notice the large stamping of angry footsteps until the door she was holding open was ripped from her fingers.

She gasped in her surprise and found herself looking straight into the angry eyes of Draco Malfoy.

"I knew it!" he yelled, "I heard you when I was here earlier."

Hermione was too shocked by seeing him that she just remained still, watching his outburst.

"All you filthy Mudbloods," he continued, "sticking your entitled noses where they're not wanted. That's what's bringing this world to ruins; everything would be great if you all just pissed off!"

Hermione absently noticed that he seemed a little hysterical, but with everything that was going on with the war, Hermione didn't care. He was hitting all the right buttons and she snapped.

"Really?" She yelled back, her anger filling her body, "That's what's wrong with the world? People like me? There is a _genocidal_ _maniac_ ruining the Wizarding World, kidnapping and killing hundreds of people without any restraint or remorse, and _muggle-borns_ are what is wrong with the world? Are you being serious?"

"Yeah!" He yelled back, staring her straight in the eyes, "If dirt like you weren't coming in and taking it all for yourselves, people like him wouldn't have to fix the bloody problem!"

She felt intimidated, almost fearful, at his intensity and proximity, but she did her best to ignore it, because more than these she was furious. Her clenched fists were shaking at her sides and she was very conscious of her wand which was in her right robe pocket.

All her curiosity, her slight compassion, and her academic interest vanished as quick as a flash, and now only anger and disgust at the whole thing powered her. The Gryffindor in her pushed her legs forward until she stood only a foot in front of him, she stared directly into his rage filled eyes, and spoke clearly.

"You and your whole group of madmen are _sick_ , and even if every single one of you dropped dead right now, it would not be soon enough."

She then turned away from the fury in his eyes, quickly cast a _bombarda_ on the wooden cabinet, and walked out of the room of requirement with her head held high.

 **Oooh, excitement.**

 **Sorry if they were a bit OOC, I kept rewriting so much of this chapter because it didn't feel completely right, but this is what I finished with.**

 **I'd love a bit of feedback!**

 **I'll try to update as soon as I can.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, I'm back with another!**

 **I realised the other day that I had made a mess of the timings for this, but I've fixed it now. This story started in the February of their sixth year.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

It had been two days since her fight with Draco, and Hermione was only just beginning to cool off from it.

She was sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall opposite Harry and Ron, with her back facing all the other student tables. She'd taken to facing that way purposefully so she didn't have to work so hard to ignore Malfoy's movements; it was a plan which seemed to be working, if only slightly.

As was normal for breakfast, the long tables were covered in platters of all manner of foods, from the traditional English breakfast to simple cereals and large jugs of pumpkin juice. Gathering some of the grilled tomatoes and scrambled eggs, along with a very large mug of warm tea, she began to eat her breakfast like usual, if a little more violently.

After eating for a solid minute and not hearing any of the normal conversation from her friends, she looked up to see Harry giving her a curious look.

"What?" she said unintentionally harshly.

"That" He replied. "You've been angry for the past two days and neither of us have any idea why".

 _Getting straight to it then_ , she thought.

At her mild glare, Ron replied only with a sheepish grin, and an _If you'd told us in the first place we wouldn't have had to discuss it_ shrug.

She huffed, before failing to fake a realistic smile. "I'm fine; it's just been one of those days... two of those days"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her pathetic attempt at a cover.

She rolled her eyes and dismissed it with a wave of her hand before getting back into her meal, determinedly not meeting their unsatisfied gazes. It took a few minutes of this, but finally the boys gave up, leaving her to stew a bit longer, and dived back into their usual breakfast conversation.

She allowed their voices to glaze over in her ears, and let herself go through the motions of eating and drinking without putting too much thought into anything. Keeping her thoughts from ever considering what it was that she had interfered with. This only worked for a second, because as active as her mind usually was, keeping it uninterested with anything was an extremely difficult task.

She let her eyes wonder to Ginny who sat just down the table. Her friend's face was held in a strange expression, caught somewhere between contemplation, anxiousness and expectation, and Hermione didn't know what to make of it. Ginny's right elbow was leaning on the table in front of her, with her hand raised up and fiddling with a small section of patterned fabric which covered her right shoulder and wasn't covered by her robes.

She had never asked, as it was simply not done, but Hermione expected that it covered her Words. Ginny was absently fiddling with it and Hermione looked away to make sure she didn't accidentally see anything private, continuing with her breakfast.

* * *

 _The pain was too much._

 _Spasms shook his body and a scream tore from his throat as he writhed on the floor in agony. It felt like red hot knifes, slicing through his skin and running alone his bone as the ground around him shook, hitting him in the face as it moved._

 _His father's snarling voice echoed around him, though he wasn't consciousness enough to make out any words. He couldn't focus on anything with pain this extreme, time seemed to morph, speeding down and slowing up, and somehow becoming a kind of tangible presence._

 _His sense of himself and all that surrounded him was starting to slip and he didn't know how his mind could possibly survive if this were to continue..._

He woke up in a cold sweat, his breathing laboured and his cheeks damp. It was the second night those dreams had plagued him, and Draco didn't know what to do.

He didn't know what to do about anything.

Feeling too claustrophobic under his sheets, he moved his duvet from over him and sat up on the side of his bed, resting his head in his hands and trying to even out his breaths.

The dungeons always had a certain feeling to them, a coolness to the air that felt specific to being underground. Others always mentioned how they disliked this temperature, but it was moments like this that Draco appreciated it. It was a way to refresh himself after a particularly bad nightmare; this being a situation that he was, sadly, becoming used to.

He thought back to his problem and remembered his fight with Hermione and the wreckage she left behind. He knew he shouldn't have escalated the fight, he'd been yelling out all this nonsense, but it was a way to let out all his frustrations, a fantastic method of distressing and he had taken to it like a moth to a flame. Being able to yell so freely helped clearing his head and he had been starting to calm, but he had pushed her just a little too far.

The _bombarda_ she cast was very powerful, and it was only due to the sheer force of protection spells on the cabinet that any of it was left at all. The majority of the boards had been destroyed, leaving only a mere skeleton in its wake. At each corner, single beams of wood stuck up into the air, showing their powerful runes of protection proudly, while the rest of the wood lay around it in splinters.

Its destruction brought about a very strange mix of feelings in Draco. He had begun to associate that cabinet, the whole room in fact, with everything that was going wrong, with Voldemort and his farther, with the pressure and the fear; and for a second after it was destroyed he relished in it. It was like a weight was dropped off his shoulders, _No more work on the stupid cabinet_.

At least that was before the reality of it set in. Now he was still in the same position, with the same pressures, the same fear, only now he had nothing to appease them with. No way for anyone to enter Hogwarts, and no method of killing Dumbledore. He was stuck in his mind, imagining the methods with which Voldemort will punish him for failing, and a whole lot of lost sleep.

He needed to think of something new, and fast.

* * *

"Alright class, settle down!"

Flitwick's high voice called out over the chatting of the children, trying to gain their attention.

He was standing at the front of the class on his usual stack of books, holding his wand as if unsure whether it was frowned upon to draw attention by silencing his students.

"Class!" He called again, this time using a _Soronus_ charm, and most of the voices quietened into mutters. Thinking that this was probably the best he could expect from them, Flitwick began to talk.

"Right, I trust everyone has done their background reading on the charms as I suggested, if not you may find yourself particularly behind in this lesson. Today we will work on the duration of our concealment charms, before your practical test next lesson."

The class groaned in anticipation of the test but gave Flitwick their full attention.

"As you know, _Colovaria_ and _Colovarius_ , the simpler colour charms, are permanent once they have been cast. They can be charmed away, of course, but should you leave the object you have coloured and forget about it these spells will not fade or change. This is useful for decorating a home for example, because even if you cast the spells on another's house, or you simply move away after casting them, these colours will remain for the next tenant.

" _Colovalare_ , however, is different in this respect. This concealment charm requires constant reapplication, which can be particularly irritating in the hiding of your Words. It is important to be aware of how long your charm will hold, so it will not run out at inopportune moments, leaving your Words visible to those around you. The average length of the spell by an experienced witch or wizard is around 68 hours, though this length can only be achieved through practice. Students at your level will begin with charms only lasting a few minutes until you build up your duration."

Flitwick continued his explanations in this manner for another ten minutes, before asking them all to raise their hands, palm-down, over their desks in front of them.

The students shot each other bemused looks, but one by one each student held their hand out over their desk and waited for whatever Flitwick had planned. He waved his wand in an unfamiliar movement, and all at once the back of each person's hand was patterned with two words.

Hermione, who was sitting at the front pulled back her hand and saw the words, ' _Conceal_ _me'_ written in elegant lettering. Looking over at Harry who sat next to her, she saw the words ' _Hide me'_ written on his. On a quick check of the hands of the other students in the rooms, she saw other short phrases of a similar nature.

With a second flick of Flitwick's wand, the numbers 00:00 were written in the air in front of each student in a glowing green script.

"Right, I want you to cast your concealment charms over the writing I have written on your hands. When you have, the timer in front of you will begin to count, and will stop again when the charm wears off. There will be 20 points for the student whose charm lasts the longest." As he said this, a few heads turned to pay a little more attention than they had previously, "When you beat the current high score let me know and I will write it up on the board. Alright, off you go."

Around the class the incantation _Colovalare_ was spoken, followed by the flicking of numbers as each student's counter began.

Very familiar with the theory and having practiced outside of the classroom herself, Hermione cast the charm with a now familiar flick of her wand, and watched as the numbers on her clock steadily rose.

The first few students whose charms ran out had stopped after about 40 seconds, with another group stopping at a minute and a half. During this time Flitwick looked around the class, seeing students reaching their limits before reapplying their charm and the counter resetting to zero. Hermione noticed Neville's time was still climbing like hers, and she sent him a celebratory smile from across the room, which he happily returned.

By the 5 minute mark her words began to show through her charm and her time stopped, the counter reading 05:18.

"Fantastic, Ms Granger!" Flitwick beamed writing her name as the current leader on the board at the front of the classroom.

The competition continued in this vain, with Neville, Hermione, Mandy Brocklehurst and Michael Corner leading the charge. Each being on the board for only a few minutes before another would take their place.

Hermione had spent almost the whole class concentrating, but just as the lesson was beginning to end, she couldn't help by look over to the Slytherins across the room from her. They were all talking among themselves; all expect one, whose light hair lay lifelessly over his head, with dark bags hanging under his grey eyes, which were staring dully into space.

* * *

"Alright mate, I've had enough of dodging it, it's getting worse and I'm stick of being out of the loop. What is wrong with you?"

Draco looked up from where he was lying on his bed staring absently at the ceiling above him. It was about an hour before curfew and most of Slytherin were still lounging in the common room, leaving the dorm room empty save for Draco and Blaise, who was sitting on the closest bed on the left, giving Draco a serious look which said he would not be ignored.

It was refreshing, Draco thought, to be treated with honesty and thoughtfulness at the same time. In the last few years, the only people who had been honest with him were those who were yelling and cursing him, and those who treated him kingly were only doing so because the feared him. It was one of the things about Blaise which Draco appreciated; that he would always have his back but didn't mind talking straight.

There were few people in his life at the moment who he could say the same for.

It was for this reason that Draco didn't curse him and walk straight out the dorm at his question.

"You know, stress and expectations" he said evasively.

"What the hell sort of stress is that? You look like you've aged about 60 years in the past 3 days."

Draco tried to give him a look to say _back_ _off_ , but Blaise seemed to either be oblivious to it or to determinedly ignore it.

He shook his head at his friend's antics, "Nothing I'm going to speak to you about."

A smirk had begun to form on Blaise's face, "You underestimate my powers of manipulation, my friend. You'll tell me, whether you want to or not".

Draco couldn't help but chuckle a little. "Unlikely, but it would be funny to see you try".

That earned him a wink, and a sly grin.

"That I will".

* * *

A week later, Hermione's anger was just a small rumble in her mind's periphery, and her curiosity was back at full pelt. And with that, her preoccupation with watching his actions returned before she had a chance to prevent it.

Each day that passed Malfoy seemed to become more and more downtrodden. Hermione would take a moment to notice him each morning, seeing how his eyes grew more hopeless and his usual scowl became that much more exhausted.

On one such morning, Hermione was sat at the Gryffindor table nibbling absent-mindlessly on a piece of toast. Malfoy had walked in a little later than usual this morning, she'd noticed. He'd been trying to hide it but he seemed even more tired than before, his feet were dragging and his arms hung limply by his sides.

She noticed Blaise, who was already sat at the Slytherin table was looking at Malfoy in concern as he approached, but it was just dismissed at Malfoy shook his head dejectedly.

"So, Malfoy, huh?"

Hermione turned sharply towards the amused voice of the youngest Weasley sibling. Ginny sat on the opposite side of the table and was munching on a plate of eggs and sausages, but having been so lost in her thoughts Hermione didn't notice her sit down.

"What about him?"

Ginny chuckled, "You know, apart from the whole Slytherin, blood purist, _enemy_ thing he's got going on, you could be cute together"

"What? No, that's not at all how it is!" She objected quickly, "I'm just keeping an eye out for suspicious behaviour 'cause I followed him the other day and... Okay, I know how that sounds, but I'm just curious..."

Ginny's smirk had been growing as Hermione spoke until she was grinning in triumph.

"You know what, forget it Ginny"

Ginny laughed outright, "I was only joking before, but you know what, I think you do! Isn't this quite the surprise?"

Hermione sighed, "No, Ginny, not at all." She put down her toast, having lost her appetite, "Look I'm going to go, see you later."

"Hey" Ginny called a little softer than before, wearing a worried expression "I didn't mean to push your buttons, are you okay?"

"Yeah, look, don't worry; I'm just trying to figure something out. We'll talk later okay?"

With a nod of confirmation from her friend, Hermione left, hurrying to her first class still lost in her theories.

* * *

Hermione started walking back to her dorm late that evening, no closer to figuring everything out. She had spent that afternoon in the library, as she often did when her thoughts were particularly tangled, but even there she wasn't able to decide on much.

Like Harry had mentioned at the beginning of the year, she suspected that Draco had ties to the Deatheaters even if he was not quite as invested as Harry had proposed. It is possible that his declining health was due to his responsibilities with them, or simply due to being in that situation. But what he was doing spending in the room of requirement, Hermione didn't understand. For all of her searching in the library she couldn't find out much about the cabinet, as she just didn't know enough about it to know what to search for.

But she had come to the conclusion that whatever it was had been important to Malfoy, and that since it's destruction he had been getting much worse. She'd been noticing in classes she shared with him that he had gotten complacent and less able to concentrate over the last week.

Despite everything that had gone on between and the years of animosity they had both suffered, something in her heart pitched a little in sympathy for him.

 _Stupid_ _Gryffindor_ _heart_ , she muttered.

Her head shot up as she heard the sounds of footsteps coming from behind her. It was past curfew, and she was still walking on the 6th floor, so as stealthily as she could Hermione ran into a nearby alcove. She forced her breaths to quieten and focused on lowing the racing of her heart.

The thuds of Slughorn's boots echoed around the otherwise empty corridor as he passed. Hermione watched as he kept walking until he reached his office near the end of the corridor and slipped in, closing the door behind him.

She breathed out a breath of relief, placing a hand over her chest and feeling how madly it was beating. She was still hoping for head girl next year, despite everything that is going on with the war at the moment, and being caught out late wouldn't have done her any favours. But just as she continued her journey back to Gryffindor tower, she noticed a head of light hair emerging from a second alcove closer to Slughorn's office. He began walking towards her and when he saw her he stopped.

He looked like he was trying to dredge up an offensive phrase, a scathing remark, or simply just a scowl; but he looked too tired, too weary of more than being awake. He walked straight past her without a word, leaving Hermione with yet more questions and still no answers.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for the encouragement with this story, seeing your responses really make my day!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry you had to wait so long!**

 **I know some of this stuff happened differently in the book, but this is my version - artistic licence and everything!**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

"Did you do it?"

Draco nodded. It was the next day and he was nearly at the end of his last nerve waiting for some results. He was in his dorm once again, letting himself stew in his nerves.

It was not the best plan in the world, but if it worked in the end, the theoretical merit of the plan wasn't of much consequence; unless some inefficiency was to divulge his involvement, of course. But apart from Granger running into him, no one saw him there, so there was no evidence other than the circumstantial.

He laid his head in his hands, rubbing the base of his hands over his eyes, trying to wipe away the weariness in them.

Draco could feel the bed dip as someone, presumably Blaise, sat down next to him.

"Hey" His friend said, his familiar, deep voice calming Draco, "There is nothing to do but wait for this to play out. Get it out of your head for a while, if it works that's great, if it doesn't then we'll think of something new, but nothing will come of waiting anxiously like this."

He knew Blaise was right, but this whole situation was just making him feel antsy, so he got off the bed, pacing pointlessly between his bed and Blaise's, absently fiddling with the fabric which was always wrapped around his right wrist.

He could hear Blaise sigh, but paid it little mind. He closed his eyes as he paced, as if trying to force the thoughts out of his head; not that this really made much difference, except for just causing his already aching eyes to feel more ragged by the second. This pacing continued until he was finally distracted by the opening of the dorm room door.

Looking up, he saw Blaise who had stopped halfway through the door.

"Come on, we need to distract you, your pacing is driving me nuts."

With that, Blaise walked out the door, expecting to be followed. And despite his aversion to being told what to do, Draco spent a second to regain the composure he'd need to be in public and followed his friend out the dorm room.

* * *

Hogwarts castle was beautiful.

It was something he often managed to forget, but was happy to be reminded about at times like this. The tall building stood with bold architecture, and though he doubted he could confirm it, he often thought that the outside shape of the castle changed as its magic willed it, depending on the feeling of the day. The strong greens of the lawns and forests that surround it made the air feel alive and up in the sky on his broom, as Draco currently was, the troubles which plagued his mind as he walked the long corridors seemed a little further away.

He stopped admiring the view and leaned forward on his broom, relishing in the pressure of the wind on his body as he flew speedily through the sky. He and Blaise had left the confines of the castle to fly over the ground and clear the cobwebs out of their heads, as it were.

It was working, he felt freer than he had in the last year.

As he slowed, he let a contented smile grow on his face, and he leisurely continued his explorations of the night sky; marking the first day of his four day wait for his plan to begin making an effect.

* * *

It had been a couple of days since she had randomly walked into Malfoy on the seventh floor. And since then Hermione hadn't seen him at all, she'd seen him in lessons, but even at meals where she would expect him to be he didn't seem to show.

This was why Hermione was slightly shocked to find him out in the open in the library.

In their earlier years she would often see him there; she would usually walk inconspicuously in the opposite direction to find another desk further away from him to avoid making a scene; it was always easier to do this than have to put up with comments about her appearance, habits or ancestry. But this year she had vaguely noticed a lack of his presence in the library, not that she had put much thought to it, but seeing him there at that moment made her realise how long it had been.

She had just rounded the corner to her usual table which was hidden amongst some shelves, when she saw him. He was sitting down, leaning his right arm on the table, the green fabric which usually covered it sitting abandoned on the table. He held his wand in his left hand a little stiffly, pointing the tip at his right wrist mumbling an incantation, following the dark lines of a few remaining letters with patterned it.

Hermione only managed to stifle the gasp which threatened to escapes her lips; she quickly stepped back out of his view before he saw her.

 _His_ _words_.

She had never seen someone else's words before, not even a single letter. But today she saw two. Only the last two letters, 'I' and 't', but she couldn't help but think about them. It hadn't occurred to her before to consider font, but in that brief second she noticed that Draco's were written in a slightly different style, a little more slanted that hers, with slightly thicker lines too.

Her academic interest was flaring, but conscious of the fact that he could walk out and see her waiting just aside his table, she decided to quickly move and find another place to sit.

* * *

"I forgot to ask you" Hermione said a few days later, looking up briefly from the piece of parchment she was writing on. "You had this strange look on your face the other day at breakfast. I've noticed it since then as well. Is everything okay?"

It was the first of March, and Hermione and Ginny were sitting in the common room at a table in one of the corners. The room was lit with a warm golden glow from the touches which shone from their spots on the walls, and the fire which burnt in the fire place. Despite the cold weather of early spring, Gryffindor tower was pleasantly warm, and many students were enjoying the comfort, sitting with their friends studying for their classes or playing games of chess or exploding snap.

Ginny, who was sitting next to Hermione, looked up from her own notes and sighed.

"It's alright, but it's kind of private I'd rather not talk about it."

At Hermione's worried expression Ginny hastened to clarify.

"It's nothing bad, I swear, kind of good actually, reassuring, but it's just not something I'd be comfortable saying just yet."

Hermione tried really hard to not openly look down at the piece of material which was just visible by her friend's neck. Ginny didn't seem to notice her inevitably stiff expression, thankfully.

"That's okay; I'm always here if you need someone to talk to though." She said quickly.

"Thanks" Ginny smiled. "Anyway, what did you end up getting Ron for his birthday today? "

"I chipped in one the gloves Harry bought him" She said, "I was a bit stuck for ideas. What about you?"

"Well-"

Ginny stopped abruptly, looking expectantly over Hermione's shoulder, and after turning round they both found themselves looking at a small first year student.

The young boy had curly blond hair, large green eyes, and a mouthful of wonky teeth, and stood in front of them with an amount of self-assured confidence which neither of the girls thought any first years ought to have. He looked up at the sixth years unapologetically, and crossed his arms over his chest as if he was threatening them.

"What do you want?" Ginny asked flatly.

His attempt at an intimidating appearance was dissolved very quickly as he spoke with a high voice which was more his age. The girls restrained their mirth.

"I have a message." He then took a long pause. "Your famous friend sent me".

He was clearly not going to offer any more information until he was asked and Hermione had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, Ginny had no such inhibitions. "What did he say?"

The small boy wore a proud expression and took his precious time, relishing in their attentions, before finally acquiescing.

"He's in the infirmary. He told me to tell you, obviously he could tell that I was the perfect-"

"Why?" Ginny all but yelled. Hermione could see the fear in her face. "Why is he in the infirmary?"

The boy looked faux offended, but, thankfully, he answered the question.

"The ginger one got poisoned."

* * *

"It didn't work." He growled out, "Of course it didn't"

Draco stood at the edge of the forbidden forest trying to wade through the flood of emotions which were assaulting him. His hair was falling in every direction after the amount of times he had put his fingers through it, and his shoes were messy with the remains of muck and leaves which had once been lying peacefully on the ground, only to be disturbed by his frustrated pacing.

Blaise stood in front of him, obviously feeling restless at how little he could do to help.

"If only the idiot hadn't gone and wreaked everything, I wouldn't be back down the same bloody hole, with the same problems" He was throwing the worlds out, his hands by his sides shaking in both anger and fear. It was a powerful combination and had Blaise not been standing between him and the school, Draco probably would have made the very angry walk between here and the hospital wing. That, however, would not have been the wisest decision.

He could vaguely hear Blaise trying to appease his anger with hopeful sentiments but he was too within his own mind to truly hear it. It wasn't until Blaise gave a new idea that Draco snapped out of his thoughts.

"Is there no way of fixing the cabinet?"

He remembered the pile of splinters Granger had left behind and grimaced.

"Not really" he said hopelessly, "It was all in shards, and it didn't respond to _Reparo_ either, nothing I can do"

He would have gone back to his previous thoughts but the glint in Blaise's eyes made him curious.

"What?"

Blaise grinned, "You're going to be so happy you told me everything."

Draco's eyebrows creased as he frowned in confusion, "What do you mean?"

Blaise walked past him towards the tree line, bending down to pick up a twig from the floor. Being early spring the earth was in a constant state of being damp and mucky, so after quickly flicking his wand to clean the twig, he brought it back over the Draco.

He held it out to him expectantly and waited until Draco took it.

"Break it"

"What?"

Blaise rolled his eyes, "Break it, into random pieces"

Hesitantly, Draco obliged, feeling a little confused. He broke it down the middle, then each half again, breaking off small bits of bark as well until he held a pile of peaces in his left hand. He looked up questioningly at his friend.

"You have so little faith in me" Blaise chuckled before picking a small piece of twig from Draco's hand and the bark which had previously been attached to it. He laid them both in his own right hand, holding his wand in his left.

" _Suo_ _Glutinum_ " He mumbled, moving his wand from where it touched the bark to the opposite position on the twig. Between the two points a shimmering thread formed, growing wider as Blaise manipulated it, until the entire edge of the bark was covered by this shimmering magic, and with a flick of the wand the two pieces were pulled together, fixing them as if they had never been broken in the first place.

Draco looked up from the twig to see a very smug expression on his friend's face.

"It works just as well on enchanted objects which _Reparo_ would ignore"

Before Draco even tried to respond, his legs had already begun running towards the school, roughly neatening his hair as he ran.

"Draco!" His friend called after him, "Where are you going?"

His pace never faulted as he yelled over his shoulder, "To fix all my problems!"

* * *

Ron was lying silently on the hospital bed, his chest moving up and down slowly in his sleep.

Hermione and Ginny had run down to the infirmary as quickly as they could, almost tripping down a couple of the staircases in their haste. Considering how little the girls had heard about what had happened, they had both thought themselves into a state about how dire a situation Ron could be in; but seeing him resting so peacefully put them a little at ease knowing he was still breathing with all his limbs intact.

At their entrance they were greeted by Professor McGonagall who showed them to the other side of the room, where a bed was surrounded by a large group of predominantly ginger haired witches and wizards. Ron was lying in his bed with Mr and Mrs Weasley sitting either side, one of his hands held in his mother's palm. Harry stood next to Arthur looking down as his friend with a weary expression.

At the foot of the bed stood two men of almost identical height, both sporting matching haircuts and similar expressions of mild concern mixed with their usual undercurrent of mirth. These twins turned to face Hermione and Ginny as they walked towards them.

Hermione smiled slightly in greeting to them, whereas Ginny ignored them completely running instead to Harry's side, mumbling questions to him, staying quiet so as to not disturb anyone else in the wing.

After taking in the situation Hermione walked up to him too, searching for answers. Harry looked worn out, his posture was slumped, his eyes were dropping slightly and his robes hung off him like they too were worn out by the day they had been having. Had Hermione not been more worried about Ron's condition, she would have asked Harry about his.

"... once we got the antidote for that" Harry was saying to Ginny, "Slughorn got us both a drink to... I don't know, settle the whole ordeal, or something. But for some reason that was poisoned and Ron was the only one to drink any and he instantly fell to the floor and was frothing at the mouth," He looked uncomfortable recounting it, "but he's okay now." He finished.

"Just like Ron" Hermione heard George say.

"Poor sod" His twin agreed in amusement.

"He's finally offered some alcohol..."

"... and it nearly kills him."

"He really shouldn't be drinking underage, that's why"

Fred agrees with a series of reprimanding tuts made at their unconscious brother.

Hermione stifled her laugh feeling as if it would be a little inappropriate

"Why would it have been poisoned though?" Ginny said, continuing her conversation with Harry.

"That, I think, is the right question."

The voice came from behind the girls, speaking no louder than anyone else but somehow projecting confidently throughout the whole room so that everyone took notice. They turned to see the headmaster walking into the medical room with a hesitant Professor Slughorn trailing behind him.

Slughorn wore his characteristic long thick robes, but unlike usual he stood as if he would prefer to hide inside them rather than face the judging eyes of those in the infirmary. Though he knew himself innocent, the Slytherin in him whispered words of self preservation, encouraging him to make a speedy exit. He repressed this, however.

"Now" Dumbledore said, still maintaining that ever-present twinkle in his eye despite the fact that one of his students is lying unconscious. He walked forward to the side of the room where the offending bottle of mead sat innocently on a table. The brown wrapping around the bottle had been torn slightly where Slughorn had opened it, and only three quarters of the bottle remained full. "Do you remember who gave this to you, Horace? It appears to be a gift."

Slughorn stood nervously, his hands held in front of his robust belly, fiddling absently with his other fingers. "It was meant as a gift to you, headmaster"

At this Dumbledore looked up from the bottle of mead. "How curious. It was from Madame Rosmerta, I assume?"

At Slughorn's small nod, Dumbledore continued. "We must contact her to see if she has any information. If you would, Minerva"

Professor McGonagall, who had yet to say much since the girls arrived, nodded and immediately left to investigate.

There was something about this whole incident which Hermione could feel she was missing, like there was something obvious she couldn't put her finger on. But it was only when McGonagall returned half an hour later that Hermione began to connect the dots.

"Madame Rosmerta doesn't seem to be to blame for it" She began, her Scottish accent colouring her words warmly. "She bought the mead as a batch and the others show no signs of poison, so the poison must have been added after she sent it, I'm afraid."

Hermione considered this, the bottle must have been kept in Slughorn's office, and someone must have been able to get in while he was out, someone that most likely knew his schedule.

Her mind instantly recalled her meeting with Malfoy outside Slughorn's office on the seventh floor.

 _It was him._

She knew she might be just being presumptuous; there was little reason to assume it was him, other than a childish house rivalry and a connection to the Deatheaters, but it made sense, and she just had to know if it was true.

Without waiting to listen to the rest of the conversation, she made her way straight out of the infirmary and up to the seventh floor. She had a certain Marauders map to search.

* * *

He'd left Blaise earlier with a lot more enthusiasm than he had now.

To begin with he had eargery search for each missing piece, connecting them with enthusiasm. But it turned out to be a lot less interesting than he had imagined.

He'd entered a kind of monotone existence, adding one piece to the next, sticking them together in the hope that these pieces had been next to each other in the first place. This was usually not the case, so he would have to undo the spell and begin searching once more. It was long, boring work, and as his enthusiasm for it wore out the more frustrated he got.

It had been about half an hour before he put down his wand and sighed loudly. He needed a break, he decided.

The last few days, mostly in an effort to distract himself from his other preoccupations, Draco had been working on his _Colovarlare_ Charm. Whenever he was alone he would use the concealment charm to cover the Words on his wrist, and a little later he would check to see whether it had faded or not. He always kept his fabric over it because he was aware that his charm still didn't last very long, but each day he would keep reapplying it to build up the strength. He'd now managed to keep the charm for around 40 minutes, but as this still wasn't enough, he had kept on practicing.

Entirely bored of his work rebuilding the cabinet, Draco pulled the fabric off his wrist to show the familiar slanted style of his clearly visible words.

"I'm counting on it" They said.

He still didn't know what to expect from that. He'd tried to picture a moment in which this phrase could be suitable as a kind of goodbye, but especially considering the kind of girl he had always expected to marry, he couldn't think of one.

Throughout his childhood Draco had been surrounded by a certain culture. Being part of the more influential pureblood families was filled with certain expectations, not just the ones that led to his current situation, but other rules and etiquette which surrounded social situations and was always to be followed.

When he was younger he was introduced to a number of girls in the hopes of promising a marriage between the two, but as was expected, each meeting was formal, uncomfortable, and filled with subtle levels of both boasting and threatening from each set of parents. But aside from that, one of the things which Draco always remembered was that it was always the way to end meetings with a formal goodbye, excusing yourself to each important member of the family in the order of their social standing. So the last words he would have ever heard from each of these girls was some kind of greeting.

Obviously not from his soulmate though.

So he had concluded that should his soulmate be one of these intended marriages, they must die halfway through a conversation and be unable to follow customs. He did, however, decided that this wasn't particularly likely.

So the other option was someone outside these circles, someone with a more casual style of speech. And if Draco was to be honest with himself, with everything that he'd been going through from being a part of pureblood society, he was a little relieved that it may be someone else. It could be someone who could distract him from all of this.

Thinking that always gave him a small sense of comfort.

These thoughts swam round his mind as he completed his _Colovarlare_ charm, watching with satisfaction as the words disappeared into nothing, leaving just clear skin in its place. Seeing his wrist like that looked especially strange the first time he had concealed his words, having grown up his whole life with them there, the lack of them made the shape look strange. He was getting used to it now though.

Having reapplied the charm, he wrapped the fabric back around his blank wrist, and faced back to the hopeless disaster of a cabinet.

He picked up the piece he had been working on earlier. It was the accumulation of four other smaller pieces that he'd managed to put together to form the larger section. He began looking through the pile of chippings to find the next addition, and would have fallen back into the movements he had developed earlier, but he was distracted by a pointed cough from about ten meters away.

He looked up to see a curly haired Gryffindor, one that it seemed like he couldn't escape at the moment. He tried to dredge up some kind of response, but as tired of everything as he was, he just couldn't be bothered.

"What do you want Granger" he muttered, continuing his work.

She didn't say anything for a while, so he looked back up at her.

She wore a strange expression, one that looked to encompass many emotions, though Draco had a little trouble reading them. He had come to one conclusion though, none of the emotions were positive.

"Was it you?" She finally said, her voice a bit strained.

 _Weasley_. He hadn't intended that, obviously, though he wasn't exactly going to lose any sleep over it. He closed his eyes, turning back to what he was doing, picking up another piece and muttering the incantation to stick it to the main block; he wasn't even sure if that is where it goes, but he just needed to do something with his hands, he felt uncomfortable being watched so intently.

He was very aware of the fact that she still stood there, waiting for his answer.

"Yes" he said finally.

When he next looked up, she was gone as if she had never been there in the first place.

* * *

 **I'd been having a little bit of a break from writing, but I think I'll be starting again now (yay) so hopefully it won't be long until I update again. As always, let me know if you have any ideas of scenes you want to see!**

 **Blessings xox**


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